To Kill A Fox ( Hard)
by Morgaur
Summary: A mercenary band show up at Kotir, just after the whole Patchcoat/Mask mess. Not your usual band - disciplined, well trained, well armed. Spells doom for CORIM? Probably. Rated T for violence. Some parodying of the blatant type-casting that the late Brian Jackson went into. ABANDONED!


**I've wanted to do this for some time. Basically, what I'd do if I had a mercenary band and was in the Mossflower book. As realistic as possible.**

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With measured tread the mercenary band marched south along the old road, paws swinging and armour clinking in their packs. Ten stoats in half-armour carrying spears and shields marched ahead in a rough inverted V, eyes flicking watchfully around. Twenty paces behind came the main force. Forty weasels, twenty stoats, twenty foxes, and eighty rats in double ranks of five, five paces between each double rank. Each one had a large pack on their back, strapped onto which were cooking utensils and weapons. Twenty paces behind the last group marched another ten stoats in half-armour. In between the two troops of foxes strode a black fox, head and shoulders taller than the others, wearing a long black cloak. On his right was an old albino polecat; on his left a fox in the prime of his youth, holding a furled banner topped with the massive skull of a full-grown badger. In front, behind, and either side of the three marched ten fully-armed foxes, narrowed eyes watching the sides of the road through the slits of their crested helmets.

"How far ahead did our scouts say this castle was?" the black fox asked, keeping his eyes on the road ahead.

"About two leagues, lord," the polecat replied, gaze flickering to the fox's face for a second.

"And how far would you say we've marched since then?"

"Perhaps half a league?"

The black fox nodded briefly. A few moments passed, then he said, "In that case we should arrive before sunset."

"That should give us the perfect excuse to claim hospitality, then," the banner-holder commented.

"Indeed," the black fox replied.

Half an hour passed before the young fox spoke again.

"Lord?" he asked.

"Speak," the black fox said.

"Are you planning to take the castle over?"

The black fox did not reply, and the banner-bearer cringed visibly. He was just about to stammer out an apology when the black fox spoke.

"No. If what I heard is right, that castle in the lair of the wildcat Verdauga Greeneyes, who called himself the Lord of the Thousand Eyes. I don't intend to risk my all taking over from him. In any case, the scouts reported that the castle looked rather decrepit. Not worth taking over, but a useful rest stop on our trek."

The young fox nodded.

"Although," the black fox continued, "I heard that Verdauga was ill. Some said dying. He had two children, a male and a female. If he is dead, I wonder which of the two became leader in his place?"

A shout came from the head of the column.

"Scouts in sight, Lord Konrad!"

The black fox raised his paw. "Halt!" he cried, and the cry was echoed up and down the length of the column by his officers.

"Rest until I have heard their reports," he ordered, and the air rang with the sound of packs being dropped on the ground and the groans of the soldiers as they stretched their muscles. The black fox - Lord Konrad - motioned with his paw and one of his guards hurried over with a small wooden stool which he placed on the ground at his feet. With a nod Konrad dismissed him and sat down. The banner-holder stood beside him, leaning on the flagpole, and the polecat lowered himself down onto the ground on Konrad's other side with much grunting and wheezing.

"It gets harder and harder to sit down after marching so long," he grumbled, when he'd finally made it.

The young fox grinned at him.

"Perhaps you would like a cart, your ancient decrepitness?" he joked.

"Decrepitness?" the old polecat snapped, staring up at him. "Why you little whippersnapper you, I could have you on the ground in a second, aye, and with one hand too!"

"Easy, Ragnir, easy," Konrad said, a hint of a smile in his voice. "Young Hemlock is just having a bit of fun, aren't you, Hemlock?" he added, glancing up at the young fox, who laughed.

"Of course," Konrad went on, "if you feel you need it, I can easily have a cart made for you. Wouldn't want to lose my mentor and advisor just because he snapped in half trying to sit down after a long march, would I now?"

Ragnir made as if to say something, glaring up at him, but he cut in before Ragnir could get the words out.

"I'm sure Hemlock wouldn't mind pulling your cart. After all, ancient decrepitness weighs hardly anything at all."

At that moment the scouts came up, panting, and snapped to attention in front of Konrad.

They were a pair of young rats, twins, tall and lean with intelligent eyes. Apart from a small knife hanging from their belts they were unarmed.

"Begging leave to report, sir," one said breathlessly.

"At ease first," Konrad said amiably, crossing one leg over the other.

They relaxed and started speaking.

"About twenty minutes march ahead"

"there is a wide river cutting across the road"

"the road continues on the other side"

"but there is no bridge, only a ford."

Having poured this out very quickly and in relay, so to speak, the two rats paused and watched Konrad's face expectantly.

"Is the ford passable?" he asked.

"Yes sir, it is."

"About waist-level at its deepest"

"and the current is not too fast"

"but at places the bottom is rather treacherous"

"and it's easy to miss your footing."

Konrad nodded. "Anything else?" he inquired.

"The tower of the castle can be seen from the riverbank."

Konrad raised his eyebrows at that.

"Indeed?"

"Yes, sir!"

A smile broke across Konrad's face. "Good work you two. Dismissed!"

The rats saluted and darted off, heading to one of the double ranks where they plopped down amongst their friends.

Konrad looked at Ragnir thoughtfully.

"If it's that close, sir," Ragnir said, "then we may arrive well before sunset."

"I know."

There was silence for a few minutes, while Konrad stroked his chin thoughtfully, then he stood up abruptly.

"Prepare to resume march!" he called. Ten minutes later the column was on the move again, towards Kotir.

…

Tsarmina was in her chamber, sitting on her bed, chin in her paws, thinking, when a knocking sounded on her door.

"What?" she asked irritably.

"Milady," Ashleg said, opening the door, "there is a mercenary band outside asking if they can be allowed to spend the night here."

"Are you sure they are mercenaries?" she asked, eyes narrowing at the memory of the fake 'Patchcoat' who had tricked her into believing that he was a fox.

"Pretty sure," he replied. "A hundred and eighty armed beasts is not something I think the woodlanders can do, no matter how convincing they can make one look."

Tsarmina tapped a claw on her fangs thoughtfully.

"A hundred and eighty, you say?"

"Yes, milady," Ashleg answered, adding meaningfully, "all armed and armoured, real heavy hitters."

Tsarmina leapt off the bed, seizing her cloak and fastening it round her neck.

"Summon their leader to my throne room, Ashleg. I must greet these guests," she said, striding past him and down the stairs.

…

Konrad cast a critical eye over the crumbling fortress as he stood waiting in front of the gates, Hemlock leaning on the flagpole beside him. On his other side Ragnir made no attempt to conceal a yawn.

"Rather sloppy looking troops, don't you think, sir?" Hemlock commented, glancing scornfully at the Kotir soldiers watching them. His gaze travelled down their dirty tunics, over their dull blades and battered shields, before moving with obvious deliberateness to Konrad's band beyond, all standing to attention with gleaming armour and weapons prominently displayed.

"Indeed," Konrad murmured, still inspecting the fortress.

A rattle of spearbutts brought his attention down from the battlements to see the Kotir troops snap to attention - rather badly, though - as the doors swung open and Ashleg appeared.

"The Lady Tsarmina accedes to your request, and invites you to enter and speak to her," he said, nodding at Konrad.

"I am at her ladyship's pleasure," Konrad replied, with a short bow. "I assume that I am to be alone and unarmed?"

"By no means," Ashleg responded, "you may be accompanied by up to two others, and you have no need to remove your weapons, unless you wish to."

"In that case," Konrad said, and turned to Ragnir.

"See to the troops," he ordered, and then turned back to Ashleg. "I am ready."

Ashleg smiled. "Follow me."

Konrad felt a slight quickening of the pulse at the sight of Tsarmina. Tall, fierce, and regal, she rose with feline grace from her throne as he entered and held out a paw. With a bow, Konrad took her paw and conveyed it to his lips.

"Greetings, Lady Tsarmina," he said respectfully, trying to make a good impression on her. Kotir was the best place his band could stay overnight, without having to fortify it or post guards.

"Greetings to you in turn," Tsarmina replied. "What is your name?"

"My name," he answered, with another bow, "is Konrad Curze, Primarch of the Night Lords. I am leading the Night Lords to the southlands in search of a service to take up. May I proffer my most grateful…"

Tsarmina interrupted. "You are in search of someone to serve under?"

"Yes," Konrad replied, raising an eyebrow, "that is so."

With a huge smile, Tsarmina said, "Then you are in luck! I need good warriors at the moment. What would be your terms if you chose to serve me here at Kotir?"

Konrad's eyes narrowed at the unexpected development.

"Make me an offer," he replied, mentally calculating what he could get from her.

Her reply took him by surprise.

"There are certain creatures - mice, voles, hedgehogs, otters - woodlanders, who used to serve me and my family but have now rebelled against me. My troops, under my father's rule which ended only recently, have grown fat and lazy, forgotten how to fight. If you can restore the rebels to my rule, then I will appoint you my chief minister and head of my army. General and my right-hand fox; how does that sound?"

"General and chief minister?" Konrad murmured, thinking furiously. The offer showed that Tsarmina had nothing to give him immediately - it would be a hard campaign that would only reap its dividend if it was successful. However, should it be successful, then there could be two outcomes. If Tsarmina kept her word, which he - keeping a cynical outlook, you got nowhere if you were trusting - thought unlikely, then he would be the second most powerful beast in the land. If she did not, then from what he'd seen of her troops, it would be easy to depose her and take over himself. If he wanted to, that is. He weighed it all up in his mind. On the one hand, accepting would mean, in all probability, a long and hard campaign to subdue the rebellion, never an easy task, without the certainty that Tsarmina's promise would be kept. On the other hand, the potential gains, whether she reneged or not, were great indeed. He made his decision.

"I'll want it in writing," he said, but held out his paw. Tsarmina grasped it firmly, and the two beasts smiled at each other.

"Well then," Tsarmina said, ushering him into an adjacent room, "mustn't keep a guest standing and hungry, can I?" She glanced at him apologetically. "That is, if you are hungry?"

Konrad shrugged, smiling a little. "When one has marched for four hours, one is bound to be hungry."

Tsarmina smiled. "Good." She indicated a table, laden with food - fish, etc. - and set for two. "Sit down."

"Now," she said, as they sat down, "let me fill you in on the position…"

…

A couple of hours later, they were looking out of a window at the evening forest.

Konrad was speaking.

"…as much as I hate to say it, I have to admit that you have not been served well with advisors in this matter. Your father's policies did not help matters either. From the first moment, leniency and reasonableness should have been shown, with the force of troops a mute threat in the background. That way they would have been encouraged to work positively, but with a silent danger hanging over them. Above all they should not have been let to see just how much the troops had fallen in quality. Now the situation is different. I think that with a bit of work it can still be salvaged, though." He fell silent for a minute, staring out at the trees, red with the light of the setting sun.

Tsarmina looked at him.

"What are you suggesting?"

"Well," he said, tapping on the windowsill, "First, I would knock your troops into shape quickly, over the next few days, get in stores of arrows, repair and sharpen all your weapons, that sort of thing. Then, in maybe three or four days, I would send out a messenger, to try and find the rebels."

"And get them to lead him to their headquarters so we can attack it?" Tsarmina asked eagerly.

Konrad winced.

"No. To try and convince them that, with my arrival, their situation is hopeless and it would be better for them to submit."

"They won't agree."

"I think it's worth a try. This way, even if they don't, more rational elements in the rebels will realise that we are being reasonable and, since we will in a sense have claimed the moral high ground, that perhaps the rebellion is not a good idea. Divide and conquer. Works every time."

Tsarmina nodded slowly, mulling that over.

"And then what?" she asked.

"If they refuse, then we take it to phase two. Small, fast raids into the forest, trying to cause as much damage as possible, while exercising psychological warfare - demonstrating our confidence and strength. Eventually we move to phase three: we start systematic sweeps of the forest. Flaming arrows into the treetops to smoke out the squirrels, then the troops go in, marching in lines. Three lines at least, spears in front, archers second, swords behind. Each line will have smoking torches spaced out along it, to further confuse any squirrels left, and will also have shields both above and in front. Behind come troops with spades and axes, filling in any holes and ruining any dwellings. Sweeps of the forest, cutting swathes off at a time. Eventually we should win."

Konrad turned to Tsarmina.

"If you will trust me on this, I can have your land back for you in four months at the most." He held out his paw, and Tsarmina took it firmly.

"If you do, I will appreciate it," she replied, staring intently into his eyes.

Outside in the forest, Chibb the robin looked up from the bag of candied chestnuts he'd been eating without listening to what had been said, saw them holding paws and looking into each other's eyes closely as they moved away from the window, and put completely the wrong interpretation on it.

Half an hour later the Corim leaders were scratching their heads over the matter.

"Tsarmina wedding a fox?" Bella rumbled, staring quizzically around. "How can that even _work_?"

"Indeed," Abbess Germaine said, tapping the table pensively. "They don't even have a priest or anything to sacralise the marriage."

"That's not what I meant," Bella growled at her. "I meant they're two different species. It's not biologically possible. Right, Skipper, Lady Amber?"

The two started guiltily and stared in every direction except at each other - they'd been staring into each other's eyes and leaning closer and closer together, until they were about to kiss.

"Uh, right, Bella, certainly," Lady Amber stammered, blushing hard and thanking the fates she was a red-furred squirrel and her blush didn't show up.

"Indeed, Bella, marm," Skipper mumbled, hiding his blush behind his oak cup of nettle wine, the preferred drink of the rugged otter leader, "two different species, yes…"

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